Hey Lady
by bigbadamon
Summary: Damon's a soldier returning home from his third tour while Elena's a small town girl who owns her own small coffee shop. After his fiancée left him, Damon spirals into a routine of daily trips to the bar as schizophrenia begins to consume his mind. When he meets Elena, who's had experience in dealing with this type of behavior, he falls head over heals. But will it last?
1. Thriving Ivory

_Hey Lady,_

_Don't give up on me,_

_And don't burn your heart out, love,_

_'Til we're ash over seas_

Damon sat at the bar, slouching over the counter in his leather stool, his eyes heavy and dark with exhaustion. As he waved the barkeep over to refill his glass with the amber haven that he'd been suckling down most of the day, still not achieving the buzz or numbness he was longingly searching for, he leaned his forehead against two fingers. He gave the bartender a pleased nod of thanks as the bearded man filled his glass nearly to the brim. He reached out, lifting it slowly to his lips as he took a premeditated gulp, licking over his bitten and chapped lips. It happened about a few months ago, but he still hadn't gotten off his "Bourbon Binge" since that mid-afternoon day.

_Damon had been home from Afghanistan a few weeks but this was the third time he was able to see his fiancée, and he knew she was nervous given what he had done last time... _

_"I can't do this Damon," he heard Katherine mutter under her breath, sounding very insincere, as if she had somewhere more important to be. He had been approaching her, prepared to embrace her and kiss her face like he had wanted to for the past few months, but her words made him freeze completely, mid-step. His mouth gaped open in shock, expecting her to take it back and perhaps make a joke out of it. He'd rather her be trying to pull a sick joke then actually mean it like he was fearing she did. _

_Her eyes, which had been focused to the side, towards her suitcase that was almost completely full, the rest of the clothes folded neatly on their bed, prepared to be packed. "W-What do you mean _you can't do this_?" he almost growled. This whole situation has guaranteed itself to be more difficult for him than it would ever be for her. _

_"You're...different," she pointed out discreetly, waving her hand at him as if he disgusted her. He winced, but not at her words, at the movement of her hands and she gave him a wide eyed look. "See! I can't even reach out my hand without you flinching! You're gonna be crazy like the rest of them!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. _

_He narrowed his eyes at her, crossing his arms across his muscular chest. "I am not going to be crazy, Katherine!" he barked back at her, much to her surprise. He licked his lips nervously, stepping closer to her. "Please, Kat. I know it's been a rough few weeks, but I've met some guys who had the same problem after their tours. They said eventually it gets better. I need you, Pierce," he reached out for her hand but she jerked out of his reach, leaving him standing there as she rushed back to their bed, harshly placing the stack of shirts that sat on the bed into her suitcase before sealing it, zipping it up quickly as if one more moment in this room with him would cause her to spontaneously combust or drop dead all together._

_"I won't be able to wait throughout all of that, Damon. It's too much for me," she insisted as she placed her suitcase on the ground, pulling up the handle as she rolled it around him, giving him a halfhearted pat on the shoulder. "I wish you the best," she attempted before exiting the room, leaving the Marine feel cold, detached, and most of all, utterly and deafeningly alone._

The memory continued to haunt him, and what made it hurt was that he had gotten worse. But what he hated was that she only seemed to care that this was hard for _her_. As if she was the one who had to live in horror, believing every sound was a gun or a Claymore going off and blowing the legs straight off your men. She would never understand the things that left him traumatized, but he somehow convinced himself she would. He was foolish. He wanted to hate her, to completely loathe her but you can't fix crazy. Truth was, he couldn't blame her for leaving, and in the end, everyone did, including his brother and uncle.

He lifted the crystal glass back up to his mouth, prepared to finish off the drink, but before he could, a series of gunshots rang in his ears and it caused him to jump, dropping the glass in his hand, hearing it shatter by the legs of the stool. He spun around to identify the shooter, panic rising within him. But, instead of finding a man with a gun, all he saw was a small, teenage boy picking up the remains of a shattered plate. Though, all eyes were on Damon who had just dropped his drink and now that was all over the floor.

"Come on, Salvatore, let's get you home," a soft British accent said from behind him, a firm hand resting on his shoulder. He turned, meeting a pair of dark eyes, blinking gently. Damon's bright cerulean eyes were wide and his breathing was audible, fear coursing through him. "Come on," Elijah repeated, guiding Damon down from the stool and towards the car.

"I heard them, Eli. I heard the gunshots!" he exclaimed, looking frantically at his best friend who had served beside him in the 38th Marine Regiment. Elijah nodded to Damon, clasping his shoulder.

"I know, Damon, I know," he said gently before the two piled into Damon's car, heading for the boarding house, that once was occupied by Damon's brother, his uncle, his fiancée, and him; but after returning, his brother and uncle didn't want to look after him, especially after he spiraled into a depressed state following the departure of Katherine.

Elijah had an arm around the raven haired man's shoulders, helping him through the wooden door of the boarding house, guiding the drunken man up the stairs. Damon's feet dragging, the ex-Marine seeming asleep on his feet, his head bobbling on his neck as he struggled to stay awake. Suddenly, he found himself flat on his back, feeling Elijah taking his boots off, yanking him into a sitting position to take his leather jacket off before Damon fell back, his head hitting the pillow perfectly, and immediately, he slipped into a long, deep, and dreamless sleep.

Damon woke from the familiar pulsating pain in his head, a sensation that had become familiar the last one hundred and twenty-two days, since the morning after Katherine left. He gazed longingly over at the empty spot next to him. He missed a warm body laying beside him with skin pressed against skin with tangled limbs and two beating hearts. This bed was just too big for just one man and this house was too quiet and overwhelmingly lonely. Looking over, he saw that two Aleve and a bottle of PowerAde sat beside him on the bedside table and it took him no further hesitation to consume both pills, washing them down with the "White Cherry" beverage.

As he sat up, his headache beginning to dull immediately as the medication began to come into effect, he contemplated on going back to the Grill. He might need the alcohol to numb his heartache but he had plenty of alcohol here that remained untouched and that was because he couldn't stand the quietness of this large domain. It was meant to house over twelve individuals; twenty-four if each came with a partner, not one crazy soldier.

But, at the thought of alcohol, his head received a sharp pain, causing him to repeal his thoughts and decided just to go grab a coffee, since that was the one thing he couldn't get in the comfort of his home. Beforehand, he showered and dressed himself, changing into his army green cargo pants and a solid charcoal shirt before slipping his combat boots. After collecting his phone, keys, and dog tags-which he never left the house without-he exited the house, seeing his car was in fact in the driveway.

He furrowed his brows, slightly pondering how Elijah got home night after night. He's been the only friend to take care of him, and he's repeatedly had to serve as a chaperon, driving him home every night but always finding a way home, probably by cab. He didn't put anymore thought upon it, sliding into his car, pulling out of the driveway before heading into town.

As he pulled into the square, he noticed a small shop which was painted in a welcoming and bright red while black cursive was written above the door, reading: Miranda's. He pulled up in front of it, stepping out of his blue Camaro, making his way to the door. He didn't recall this store ever being here before he'd gone on his first tour. Slowly, he entered the shop, the small chime of a bell startling him momentarily before he stepped inside, the smell of coffee and Danishes filling his nostrils, making them flare in delight.

Alerted by the sound of the bell, an employee scurried out from the back room, offering him a too welcoming smile that unnerved him, her cheeks too strained and her eyes too bright. He blinked before approached the register, offering a small, tight smile. "Hi," he said slowly and she gave a small giggle and Damon wondered if his expression was amusing and quickly looked down.

"Hello," she said back warmly. "May I help you?" she offered, her eyes indicating to the menu above her and the food that was in the glass by the counter. He stroked his lower lip thoughtfully, his eyes training from the menu to the display of pastries.

"Black coffee and that," he motioned to the slices of lemon bread. "Two slices," he added as the girl's mouth began to open, configuring her question before she had said it out loud. He gave her a small smirk, canting his head. "Please," he said and she immediately turned towards the coffee pot to prepare his coffee and he took the moment to look around.

It was very open with most of the front walls incorporated with glass, allowing the customers to look outside. The walls were white mostly with ruby red lines aligning the sides. Even the furniture was color coordinated with the rest of the shop, the chairs all white while the small round tables were red and the 'L' shaped leather sofa propped against the wall was red, dotted with white.

He jumped, hearing a single shot and he spun, seeing nothing but a girl with a bell sliding his plate out cautiously as she eyed him, wary. He moved forward, taking his coffee and lemon cake slices before moving to a table against the window, sitting down. He raised the white mug to his lips, taking a sip as his eyes focused on the life outside the café. He focused on a certain family as they passed. They had two kids, approximately between the ages of four and seven years, both males. The oldest raced forward, his younger brother dashing after him, struggling to keep up with the eldest's longer strides. Their parents were walking behind them, hand in hand as they laughed in joy of their kids.

Damon blinked, his heart receiving a terrible ache as his eyes focused down at his lemon slices before he closed his eyes, resting his head in his hands as flashes of life on the frontline flashed through his mind. The gunshots, the series of explosions, the screaming and cries of both agony and battle. He gripped his hair tightly, feeling lightheaded.

"Sir?

His head shot up and immediately, he froze. His eyes met a pair of warm, dark, doe brown eyes. He blinked repeatedly, waiting for the eyes to disappear, and when they didn't, his eyes slid down her. She was tiny, small compared to him, with long brunette hair that flowed down her shoulders perfectly. She was dressed casually, wearing a pair of dark jeans and a red "Miranda's" shirt, indicated she obviously worked here, but she still looked almost impossibly beautiful. His mouth gaped open and when he heard her chuckle gently, he smiled slightly.

"Sir?" she repeated, peeking at him through her thick, long eyelashes. He cleared his throat, nodding.

"Ma'am," he replied and she grinned at him.

"Are you alright?" she asked gently, looking almost concerned as she raised her eyebrows, giving him a gentle gaze.

"Quite," he responded. "Why?" he inquired curiously, canting his head.

"Because you've been sitting with your hands in your hair for almost forty-five minutes now," she replied, blinking at him, now looking entirely too worried. He furrowed his eyes and looked down at his coffee before slowly raising the mug back to his lips, taking a small sip before letting out a small grunt in confirmation.

"Seems I have," he mumbled, setting the now cold coffee down. "I apologize, I didn't mean to cause any burden, if I have," he said, glancing up at her. She smiled once more at him before motioning to the chair across from her.

"May I sit?" she asked and he nodded eagerly and she nodded, settling down into the white chair, folding her arms across the surface of the table. "You're not burden, Mister..." she arched a brow at him.

Damon suddenly sat up straight. "Salvatore," he replied. "Damon Salvatore," he gave her a smirk as he reached across the table, extending his hand. She slowly lifted her on, placing it in his obviously larger hand, and they shook hands gently.

"Elena Gilbert," she introduced warmly, grinning at him as he smirked. As he retracted his hand, she continued.

"I was just going to ask if you may want to tell me why you're so upset," she asked, almost too gently and he rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

"Please do not treat me as a child, Elena. I assure you I am a grown twenty-five year old man who doesn't need coddling," he said, arching a brow and she blushed, embarrassed. "But," he added, raising his dog tags so she may examine them from where she sat, "I've recently, within the last six months, have came back from Afghanistan and it hasn't been particularly...easy," he mumbled, blinking down at his food.

When she had taking a rather long, pregnant pause, his eyes flickered back up to her, noticing she had a sympathetic look on her face. She sighed, licking her lips. "Flash backs? Noises? Seeing soldiers you know to be dead?" she ticked off the symptoms and he narrowed his eyes.

"No. I don't see dead soldiers," he murmured and she nodded. "How'd you know?" he asked, eyes curious. But, before he could reply, the door opened again, accompanied by the sound of the bell, making Damon jump. His eyes landed on an irritated Elijah.

"There you are," Elijah muttered, sauntering over to Damon and Elena. "I've been worried sick," he growled at Damon who somewhat smug about this whole situation.

"I swear, Eli, this isn't what it looks like. She came over to me," Damon replied sarcastically, his eyes held up in defense. He was satisfied at the laugh it earned him from the brunette across the table. Elijah gave her a mild glance before offering a small, polite grin.

"I apologize, Miss, if he's been a burden," he said and Damon crossed his arms. Why did everyone have to treat him like he had Alzheimer's. But Elena gave Elijah an almost scolding look.

"He's not a child, Eli," she scolded. "He's not being a burden. Actually, I quite enjoy his company, and I assure you, he's acted like a civilized twenty-five year old man," she said firmly, exchanging a glance with Damon who was looking at her as if she had grown wings and a halo.

"It's Elijah," Elijah murmured gently before turning to Damon. "We're leaving," he commanded and Damon let out a small growl.

"No. I like it here," he retorted, tension rising in the small room.

"Okay, no fighting in the café," Elena said, standing and separating Damon and Elijah, glaring up at the British man who was surprised at how intimidating the small woman could be. He backed away, hands held in defense. She nodded at him and turned to Damon. "You reek," she said, not able to hold back a giggle.

"Hey!" Damon said defensively. "I showered before I came," he scoffed, crossing his arms.

"Well go shower again...More than once if possible," she said playfully. "And then meet back here in an hour and we'll take a walk. For as long as you want," she added. "Okay?" she said, placing her hand on his shoulder.

He nodded eagerly, grinning up at her before he stood, sliding her hand off his shoulder and placing it in his hand. "An hour," he confirmed and kissed her knuckles before he pulled a ten out of his pocket, dropping it on the table. He gave Elena a soft smirk before he exited the shop with Elijah on his heels.


	2. Safe

Do you remember as a kid the excitement that would course through you every time your mother asked if you wanted to go to the candy store or to get ice cream? Or when your father volunteered to take you to the park to toss the football or how he would take you to baseball games and sit you on his shoulders and you swore you'd never be happier than you were in that moment? Well, that's how Damon felt right now. Except his leg was shaking so erratically that Elijah was afraid it might shoot off his body all together and fly out of the car.

"Why are you so nervous?" the dark haired man asked, causing Damon to turn to him. He shrugged, licking his lips.

"Give me some credit, Mikaelson," he muttered. "I haven't been within two feet of a women since Katherine left. I know it's not a date but still...I just don't want anything to happen," he murmured, casting his eyes down. It was true, though. When women from the bar would invite themselves to take the seat next to him, he'd immediately slide off his seat and would move to a new stool, or leave all together.

"Well, in my opinion, I think she's far too bossy," Elijah muttered, pulling up to the boarding house. "And I don't think you would appreciate the dominance," he scoffed.

Damon smirked before he unbuckled his seat belt and stepped out. "I just think you're being pouty because Elena scolded you," he laughed slyly. Elijah grumbled under his breath, muttering something about Damon being a smug bastard before he stepped out of the car and the two sauntered into the house. The raven haired man immediately ascended the stairs by threes, determined to get back to the doe eyes brunette on time.

He hummed a cheerful tune as he skidded to a stop by his bedroom door before entering the dark domain. His room was elegant but simple, designed in dark wood, violet, and black. His four poster bed was propped against the wall with a small wooden nightstand directly beside it with an antique lamp that refused to work, but he still like it for decoration. A clutter of some of his favorite novels and plays were stacked beside the nightstand while a dusty hardcopy of Jack London's "Call of the Wild" sat on top of the beside table, dangerously close to the edge.

Damon made fast of stripping his way towards the bathroom, dumping the pockets of his pants, discarding his phone, wallet, and car keys before his dog tag came off. He studied the piece of thin metal contently before he placed it down softly with the rest of the items on the bathroom counter. He shucked his cargo pants and boxer briefs before he stepped into his separate shower and turned the water on, letting the warm spray trickle down his naked frame. His forehead pressed against the cool glass, the water pelting against his taut back.

He'd do this often when he was alone and relaxed. He would simply stop and think about everything. It was evident when he had returned that he was filled with guilt. Survivors-guilt they called it and they said it wears off pretty fast but Damon still felt the stab of hurt he felt when he saw his best friend get blown that awful day.

No one would ever fully understand how it feels to be hopeless; to watch your best friend walk into a trap, and before you had a chance to stop him, he was gone. No one would ever be able to comprehend how responsible Damon felt that morning. He saw the damn thing, but he couldn't bring himself to speak, as if the will to simply open his mouth had been completely taken from him.

Trying not to dwell on it for too long, he shook the thought from his mind before he began to lather down his body repeatedly, allowing the applied cream rinse to soak into each follicle while he worked on getting the smell of stale Bourbon and dirty sweat from his body. He looked down at his chiseled, pale chest, his hand spreading the bar of soap across a gruesome deformation in the skin. It was the results of a nasty bullet wound that should of killed him, but the bullet seemed to just brush his heart, though it cause very risky surgery, seeing as it broke apart. The doctors said he was lucky and fortunate to be alive, but why should he get to live when so little men did?

He let out a growl, shaking his head, hitting his temple with the palm of his hand. "Get it together, Salvatore," he muttered as he massaged his fingers through his hair, trying to concentrate on anything other than war. Like that brunette waiting for him.

That made him smirk as he went to stand back under the water, rinsing his hair from the cream product, leaving his hair to smell like citrus and spice, a strange combination but appealing to the senses nonetheless. He allowed himself to focus on exactly how beautiful Elena was as his hand wandered over his body to help remove the suds from his skin. She had such pretty brown eyes that reminded him of the shade of chocolate but they were so gentle and comforting and he swore he could stare into them forever. Her hair cascaded perfectly around her shoulders and frame her gentle facial features. But quite honestly, all he could focus on was that he wanted to see how her legs looked, since they were clad in jeans while she was in her work clothes.

His skin was soon cleared and he could smell the masculine scent of spice and vanilla but he still had the small trace of bourbon, but he drank so often he swore it was part of his bloodstream. Satisfied of his cleanliness, he turned the water off and reached out of the shower to grab a burgundy towel that was folded in arms reach. He wrapped it around his bare waist to cover everything from his hips down before he stepped out of the shower, standing in front of the mirror and letting out a loud breath.

The towel hung low on his hips, exposing the dip in his waist. He took a moment to realize how much he changed physically from the military. Before, he was lankier, leaner; he had thinner arms and a thinner torso. But now, from the countless hours of training and endurance, he was broader. His arms were muscular and he had a broad chest with a chiseled stomach. It was strange that a man could be physically strong and look prepared for anything but be so conflicted and damaged inside. Again, he let out a breath before he sauntered out of the bathroom and into his bedroom.

He started towards his closet, plucking a pair of dark blue Levi 501s and a pair of black boxer briefs. He whipped his towel off, sliding his boxers on before his jeans. They bagged a bit, exposing the hem of his boxers. He didn't use to like the baggy, loose type of jeans that looked too wide for your legs, but after wearing his combat uniform for about a year straight, he thought they were appealing. And he could wear his bulky combat boots with them. He went back into the closet to get a pair of socks and a black button down. Soon, he had his socks and shoes on and he was buttoning the last button, leaving his collarbones exposed before he slipped his dog tags over his head, hiding them inside his shirt before his wallet and phone were slipped into his back pockets.

He then made his way out of his room in a hurry, running down the stairs loudly, jumping the last few steps and landing neatly on the wooden floor as if he was eleven again. He looked around and noticed his car keys sitting on the small table in the foyer and he marched towards them, grabbing the item before he made his way out the door.

The entire drive there, he was trying to convince himself that he would be fine and nothing out of the ordinary would happen but the more he thought about it, the harder it was to convince himself. There's so many noises and people who could trigger a reaction from him while on this therapeutic stroll; cars, dogs, children laughing, adults yelling. Anything could happen and he didn't want to hurt Elena. He didn't want to hurt anybody.

Damon licked his lips anxiously as he returned to the café, cutting the engine and stepping out of the car. He ran a hand through his hair as he made his way towards the entrance of the coffee shop. He was cautious about entering, his eyes focused on the gold bell attached to the door, knowing that its chime had a reputation of startling him. He swallowed thickly before opening the door, and fortunately, all he heard was the sound of a bell.

His eyes flickered up upon hearing the sound of footsteps and immediately, Elena bounded out from the back room behind the counter, no longer in her work clothes. She had changed into a white skirt and a bright blue V-neck that matched the color of his eyes. He blinked, transfixed as his lips curved up, his eyes sliding down to her olive legs that seemed to go on for miles. His eyes immediately snapped back to hers and he smiled.

Though, her dark eyes weren't on his, but having a field trip of their own as they traveled down his own body. He noticed how her cheeks became a soft shade of red and her eyes met his under her thick lashes. "Ready?" she asked, grinning back at him.

He cleared his throat and reached for the door handle, holding the door open for her. "When you are," he smirked gently, watching as she exited the small coffee shop, giving him a gentle thanks. Damon followed at her heels as she passed his car and made her way to the sidewalk.

She turned, looking at Damon over her shoulder. "You comin' or what?" she said with a teasing smirk. The corners of his lips lifted in return before he hurried after her, walking side by side as they silently made their way across the square and towards the park where a dog was chasing a small child in the field that was enclosed in the center of a walkway that bordered the expanse of grass.

"So, tell me about yourself, Sergeant," Elena said lightheartedly. Damon smiled, sliding his hands into his pockets.

"Well, I was born here in Mystic Falls on November 18th on a breezy autumn day," he drawled theatrically, smirking over at her, causing a small giggle. "I have a younger brother named Stefan who went and lived with my uncle after I returned from Afghanistan and my Father is a real estate owner," he said, his eyes focused down as he kicked a stone absentmindedly.

"And your mother?" he heard Elena asked and he blinked, taking a pause.

"My mother died when my brother and I were very young; her heart failed after attempting to give birth to my younger sister," he replied rather bluntly. "But, Verity end up dying as well due to the fact she was premature and she wasn't breathing," he blinked, his eyes stoically travelling over to the small girl being chased playfully by the German Shepherd.

Elena had become silent and he turned to look at her. Her doe eyes remained on him, sympathetic while internally telling him to go on and he was grateful that she didn't spend her time apologizing for the death of his mother or sister because it had been so long that he was convinced he didn't miss any of them anymore, though he did still wish they had survived, and he still didn't know how that was possible.

"After the death of my mother, my childhood practically ended. My father soon fell into a state of depression and he became more stern, unlike the kind man everyone knew," he began again. "My younger brother was only about two at the time of my mother's passing while I was nine. My father was more," he paused, his face taking a contemplative expression as he tried to pick the appropriate word, "strict with me than he was with my brother who was trained to be the golden boy as if he was a golden retriever," he rolled his eyes, his dislike for his father quite obvious. "By the time I was ten, my father began to result to physical discipline and I had to take days of school so the teachers and students couldn't question the multiple black eyes. And my absence caused my grades to falter throughout middle school," he muttered, feeling doe eyes focused intently on him.

"Stefan, on the other hand, was encouraged by my father, who never laid a hand on him. From elementary school through high school, my brother got straight A's including full scholarships to his High School and many offered scholarships to colleges across the nation," his jaw clenched. "Me, on the other hand, continued to get slapped around. Entering high school, my father barely noticed I existed unless I broke a vase or a window," he said quietly before smiling. "When I became a freshman I met two idiots who enjoyed intimidating the teachers; Elijah Mikaelson and Alaric Saltzman," he chuckled.

"Those two were the only reason I was able to improve my grades enough to become eligible to enlist," he said, turning to Elena who was smiling back at him. "Alaric and I were best friends immediately. I practically lived with him and his parents throughout high school. It was him who pushed me to improve my grades. When we were seniors, Eli, Ric, and I were drunk off our asses and we started to talk about what we wanted to do when we graduated and Alaric tried to convince me to be a male stripper with him and then Eli said he wanted to be a Marine, obviously more sober than he'd admit, and Alaric and I weren't about to allow our brother to go out and fight alone so we decided that's what we were going to serve as well, and when we sobered up, we stuck to that promise," Damon explained, pausing at a park bench before he sat down with Elena beside him.

Her silence, though appreciated, was killing him. So he turned to her, his eyes pleading for her to speak. She giggled. "A stripper?" she clasped a hand over her mouth softly, trying to stifle her laughter. Damon chuckled.

"And I was so close to agreeing with him," he admitted, stroking his forehead as he shook his head.

"So what happened to Alaric?" she asked, furrowing his brows. Her question made Damon fall silent and she immediately regretted it, but before she could take it back, he was speaking again.

"About three weeks before I left on leave, our unit was preparing to move camp. Alaric had gone to grab his water bottle," he paused, his mouth open before swallowing thickly. "And I saw it. It was a trap," he shook his head. "No one knows how they pulled it off, and the investigation is still ongoing, but somehow, someone snuck into our base camp and buried mines in the sand while we were asleep. This one was poorly covered and right by his water bottle...and I fucking saw it," he ran both hands through his hair. "And then he was gone," his voice was clipped.

He turned, seeing how the brunette beside him had a hand clapped over her mouth, tears rimming her eyes. "I'm sorry for your loss-"

"But that's the thing; he didn't die!" he snapped. "The explosion took his legs. Doctors said it was a lucky break," he muttered.

"And it was-" Elena started.

"No it's wasn't, Elena," he cut her off, narrowing his eyes, turning to her. "A soldier should die with their honor in tact. Alaric didn't die; he lost his legs. He sits in a rehabilitation center on base all day and looks out the window. He doesn't talk, rarely eats or drinks and they had to stick a tube into his bladder so when he pisses it goes into a bag because he struggles to go to the bathroom and he won't tell anyone when he needs to go anyway because he loathes the pity help he receives from the nurses," he was seething now. "And it's my fault," his eyes dropped. "I stood there and watched his legs blow off. I could of stopped him but-" he cut himself off, trying to not let his voice crack. "I visited him when I came home, and the only thing he said to me was why I didn't tell him it was there..."

It was a few minutes of heavy, loud silence before a hand landed on his shoulder, stroking his shirt comfortingly. "I'm not going to let you blame yourself for _that_," Elena said sternly. "I know for a fact that wasn't your fault."

"And how would you know?" he asked halfheartedly, burrowing his brows. She licked her lips, taking a slight pause.

"My father was a Rifleman in the Marines Corp as well," she admitted. "And his arm was blown off from an unseen grenade when they were ambushed," she mumbled, removing her hands from his shoulder. "When he came home from recovery, he was never the same. He slipped into near insanity when he developed schizophrenia." Her eyes cautiously met his. Damon blinked at her before he sighed, gazing sympathetically into her broken doe eyes. "When I was sixteen, he put a bullet in his mouth and soon after my father died, my mother realized she had lung cancer and died a short month afterwards."

Damon's eyes were wide now. "But...Who took care of you?" he asked, furrowing his brows as he imagine a poor sixteen year old girl being brought into a foster home.

"My older brother, Jeremy," she smiled slightly. "He's in the Air Force; stationed at Randolph in San Antonio, Texas," she said. "It's sort of the family business to be a military man but I made Jer swear he wouldn't become a Marine and end up like Dad," she explained shortly and Damon nodded. "He's coming to visit, though, for the Fourth of July," she grinned brightly.

Damon furrowed his brows at her, canting his head contemplatively. How could a girl, who had endured such a great deal of pain and hurt have such an optimistic, bright attitude? It didn't make sense and he was half expecting her to say she was joking; which would be far more painful. But she didn't, and soon, her smile caused him to smile.

"Your brother took care of you?" he asked and she nodded in confirmation.

"Well, he had to part when he was accepted into the Air Force to be closer to his base, so for my last year of high school, my Aunt Jenna took care of me and she actually moved into the house next to mine a year or so ago," she shrugged lightly. "So she and I are pretty close."

Damon nodded and he felt happy that Elena had a family member so close to her. "Is that why you invited me out here?" he asked bluntly, and her eyes furrowed in confusion. "Because your father got schizophrenia?" he mumbled and slowly, she nodded.

"I understand what you might be going through because I watched it all happen to my father. And I hear talking about it might help," she shrugged. "Luckily, you seem pretty open about your life," she said, raising a curious eyebrow.

He shrugged at her. "I don't know...I just...I've just never been ashamed of it because I think I'm stronger because of it," he said before he smirked and leaned in as if he was telling a secret. "And I happen to have a weakness for pretty brown eyes," he winked and he noticed her eyes train away from his as she blushed, her head focusing down to hide her expression and it satisfied him.

He moved his eyes from her to the dog that was running around and he guess Elena must of noticed. "You like dogs?" she assumed, turning to him.

"I had a German Shepherd like that when I was a kid. Always wanted to get one now but I've had other things on my mind lately," he said quietly before turning to meet her gaze, smiling slightly. "Thank you, Elena...for today," he said softly and she grinned back.

"You're welcome, Salvatore," she teased, smirking at him and he believed that smirk looked better on her than it did on him. "But may I ask you one more thing?" she added, her face becoming serious.

"Of course," he allowed, nodding slowly.

"It's probably just the female gene of being nosy but, you don't seem to be comfortable with Elijah taking care of you?" she guessed, looking for any sign of confirmation. Damon sighed.

"Elijah is married," he explained. "With a daughter and a son on the way and he refuses to leave my side, and I think it's causing trouble with Tatia, his wife, and him," he admitted. "He didn't get sick; I did. He shouldn't have to take of me and clean up my messes and I don't ask him to."

Elena scooted closer to him, looking curious. "It seems like you'd rather he didn't help you," she deduced.

"Exactly. I don't want him taking care of me because I am a twenty-five year old man. He shouldn't have to," he shrugged. "I'm grateful, of course, but I'm not a child," he murmured.

Elena sighed gently before standing. Damon's eyes followed her movements as she got up and he narrowed his eyes. "Where ya goin'?" he asked, sitting up.

"Well come on. Let's go get something to eat. I'm starving," she smiled as she skipped off and Damon grinned, immediately sauntering after her.

**_Authors Note:_**

_So this chapter was just so I could explain the history and introduce some of the characters. This story is going to have a slow start-fair warning-but I hope you will all enjoy it when I add the drama I am currently plotting ;)_

_Next chapter I'll write from Elena's point of view while introducing Bonnie, Caroline, Matt, and Tyler. Please review 3_


	3. Waiting

_And Hey Lady,_

_Said I don't wanna fight,_

_But like pretty girls need cowboys,_

_I need you here tonight._

**Elena POV**

Elena felt as if this was entirely unfair to be blindsided like this. Damon Salvatore had no right to be invading every single one of her thoughts. Granted, it had been over three days since she had seen him so perhaps it was just because his story seemed to stick so clearly into her mind. For someone who had endured over that in a short twenty-five years while being diagnosed with schizophrenia to not have a more advanced reaction, as his friend Alaric Saltzman did, was incredible. But, unfortunately, it hadn't been his story that had stuck with her that short seventy-two hours, but his bright cerulean eyes that seemed to be so lively despite the circumstances.

After the park, they were quieter, but it was comfortable, nonetheless. They had gone to a Starbucks nearby, ironically, and Elena admitted her affair with the Peppermint Latte that she had a few months after opening her own coffee shop. It was near Christmas and she had been walking down the street, and it was cold so she stopped by and saw the poster. Usually, she was incredulous about seeing food and beverages promoted on a poster because usually it was fake, but the damned drink was as perfect in reality as it was in two-dimensional and she's been hooked since.

In exchange, Damon admitted that he's watched the Notebook and A Walk to Remember more times than he could count and he groaned as she stated that she had to. The former marine obviously didn't like to have feminine traits but even a soldier has a soft spot.

"Elena!"

Elena had been daydreaming..._again_. Her eyes moved from where she had been staring out the window, lazily landing on a strawberry blonde who was demanding her attention.

"Sorry Jenna...My head's somewhere else," she murmured thoughtfully before looking down at her mug of coffee that had long gone cold.

"As it has been for the past three days," Jenna smiled gently at Elena. "Get out of Narnia, Gilbert and help me to plan Jeremy's coming home party," she demanded.

At the mention of her brother, Elena beamed, her doe eyes springing back to life. Jeremy was coming back in less than three weeks and Elena was beyond exciting for the return of Jeremy. It almost surprised her how much she missed the pest. He was always making fun of her, but she knew that he only did it because he loved her. She also knew that when they departed at the airport, they were both crying and Elena distinctly remembered the urge to run after him and beg him not to go. But who could blame her? That was her Bubba. Her big brother. The Sherlock. That nickname had been developed when there father used to read about the Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and Jeremy was always Sherlock and Elena was Watson and together they figured out it was Ms. Jenson's dog that had been digging through their mother's flower garden.

As if the word "party" was her cue, a certain bubbly blonde came marching her way in with a neatly organized binder that Elena recognized from when they had to organize the campaign for the Founder's Day Party a few years back at the Lockwood's.

"Caroline, please, come in," Elena drawled sarcastically, no hiding the fact that her friend's incapability to knock was extremely annoying and an invasion of privacy. But her friend just smiled, her blue eyes glinting with that "on a mission" expression.

"Thank you, 'Lena," she replied genuinely before taking a seat next to Jenna who merely smiled. Everyone likes Caroline no matter how inappropriate her manners could be. "Now, I heard party," she began, turning to Jenna before jumping head start into negotiating the theme.

Elena's mind began to draw into another day dream about blue eyes and messy raven hair and 501's that somehow managed to look hideous on every single guy besides _him, _conjuring up the memory of when he dropped her off.

_It was late. Elena found it ridiculous how she could spend the entire day with a man she had just met. It was dark and though it was late spring, early summer, it was beginning to become chilly and soon, Elena found she could see her breath. Like a gentlemen straight out of a Nicholas Sparks' novel, Damon draped his leather jacket around Elena's shoulders without a word._

_"Won't you be cold?" she asked, furrowing his brows, but despite her question, she wrapped the jacket closer around her shoulders while Damon silently shrugged, sliding his hands back into his pockets._

_"You won't be," he replied instead, glancing over at her. "I run hot anyways," he smirked over at her and she smiled._

_"Thank you," she mouthed, grateful and he nodded in reply before his gaze turned back to the long sidewalk in front of the two as they approached Elena's home._

_"Don't you need you car?" she heard Damon ask, the realization that they hadn't taken her car apparently just catching up to him. She let out a small chuckle and shook her head. _

_"I don't see the reason in wasting gas on driving a mile and a half distance to the café," she said pointedly. "Unless, of course, it's raining or snowing," she added and he smiled sheepishly, eyes casting down like a teenager._

_They continued the stroll in silence before they ascended the porch steps to a comfortable sized two-story house. Slowly, Elena turned to Damon who was gazing impassively at the door and she silently wondered if he wanted to stay as much as she wanted him to. He had such interesting stories about the good times that him, Elijah, and Alaric did as high school kids that it made her want to cry because he had so much guilt, and she could see that as plainly as anyone else could._

_Elena licked her lips in nervous habit. "Do you want to come inside?" she offered, clutching the leather jacket more closely around her as if she could use it as an excuse for him to stay but, unfortunately, he turned and gave her a small smile._

_"I think you've had enough today," he chuckled. "I don't want to be a burden," he said and she wanted to punch him so he'd stop saying that. He was beginning to loathe the word all together. He had been repeating it for the last few hours how he was so guilty and he was a lost cause no one wanted to be around and quite frankly-she was offended. Did she not just spend more than twelve hours with this man? She might not be much but she was someone, and_ someone _did want to spend time with him. He was such good company and so casual and it was refreshing to know guys like this still existed in the world_.

_"You're not a burden, Damon, stop calling yourself that," she grumbled, crossing her arms from inside the cocoon of his jacket. He focused his eyes down, a habit he did when he felt either sheepish or indifferent, she noticed, before lifting them back up to meet hers and they were so blue in that moment, despite the fact all that was glowing around them was her old porch light that flickered as if it was about to go out. Still, his eyes shimmered, and even though they weren't as blue as they had seemed during the day, they were beautiful. She really did want him to say._

_"Thank you, Elena, but I know you're tired,"_ Damn him for being right_,__ "and I'm tired too," Damon said gently, very slowly reaching out to touch her arm. "Goodnight," he murmured, turning to walk down the porch steps. _

_"Wait!"_

_Damon turned, his eyes large and Elena kicked herself. _Damn it, Elena, he has schizophrenia and you go yelling at the man? _"Will I see you again?" she asked, licking her lips once more._

_Damon smirked gently, crossing his arms. "Why? One day of crazy ain't enough for you?" he said, raising a brow and Elena managed a soft smirk that she bet didn't look half as good on her as it did on him._

_"Not nearly," she replied boldly and she noticed how his eyes brightened and it was though he was delighted at the answer and it was satisfying, unlike his reply._

_"I'll know where to find you."_

_And then he left. Just left. And it barely registered in Elena's mind that his jacket was still around her until he was out of sight._

And there it was, draped across the back of the couch; in the same place it has been for the past three days. She knew she should probably give it back, but if she did, it meant a forty-five second exchange of something that went along the lines of: "Hey, you left your jacket on me the other night and I hadn't wanted to give it back because of this dreadful minute exchange before leaving and not knowing if I'll see you". It was pathetic almost, how she was hoarding it with her so it guaranteed he'd come back.

Surprisingly, it wasn't his story, or his diagnosis, or his eyes, that drew her in. It was everything else; his mental and emotional strength, his ability to make her laugh, his shy smile, his eyes, his hair, his smirk, his eyes. Okay, maybe she really did like the color of his eyes. And that thing he did with them and...Oh. And she didn't think it was sick to like a man who had schizophrenia because that whole day, he hadn't seen him jump or spasm beside that one time in the café.

She brought the jacket with her to the shop for the chance he might show up. But he never did and Elena was saddened when he never showed up but she shook the thought away. Hey, the worst thing that could happen is that he never comes back and she keeps the jacket? If he hasn't stopped by by then, it's obvious he'd forgotten it anyway.

"_Elena_!"

Elena jumped as the two women in front of her shouted her name out. "What?" she snapped at both of them, irritated that this was the second time they so rudely interrupted her day dream.

"You're brother is coming home in three weeks. That leaves twenty-eight days to plan this party and I have so graciously volunteered to help you. But if you continue to stare at the back of the couch for the next half hour, you can do this by yourself," Caroline barked. "Now, navy or crimson?" she stated, looking back down at the stripes of paper showing the shades of blue on one and red on the other.

Elena scoffed in disgust on both colors. "Jeremy hates both of those colors. He decided his loathing of blues and reds in seventh grade when that was everyone's favorite color. His favorite is army green and dark grey," she said, giving a small hand gesture before taking his mug to the sink and dumping the cold coffee down the sink, rinsing the mug out before placing it in the dishwasher.

Caroline was silent for a moment before Elena heard her clear her throat. "Okay," she said slowly and Elena guessed the blonde wouldn't want to be caught near anything like army green and something as dark as dark gray. She was a bright red and hot pink kind of girl. "And the guest list?" Caroline said after another pause.

"Oh the usual," Elena shrugged. "Matt, Tyler, Kol, Bonnie, Vicki, Amber," she tallied off, turning to lean against the marble counter top before shooting Jenna an apologetic look. "And Uncle John," she sighed reluctantly and Jenna let out a protesting groan.

"Oh, he wouldn't know if Jer was turning twenty-two or twelve," she muttered, crossing her arms across her chest defiantly.

"Well Jeremy always liked Uncle John, incidentally, and he would want John to be here," Elena replied indifferently, as if to say _what are we to do_?

Uncle John was Grayson Gilbert's, also known as Elena's father, younger brother. He was a blonde, five-foot-six version of Mayor Lockwood; self-righteous, cocky, smug, and always so damn megalomania. He acted as if he controlled Elena it made her want to break a bottle over his head, and half of the time, she attempted to, but Jeremy or Caroline always had to hold Elena down while the other held Aunt Jenna down since she was completely in on the idea of killing Uncle John. Fortunately though, Uncle John had always been good to Jeremy.

Caroline continued to be silent as she scribbled down notes in the Big Binder before she closed it firmly. "Done and done," she said with an accomplished expression. "Let's take a break, shall we?" And then she got _that_ look. You know, the one your mother gives you when she sees you staring at your fifth grade crush for too long. Her eyes burrowed and she gave Elena a knowing expression that made the brunette blush and look down at her feet. "Tell me about this guy you hung out a few days ago that was so special that you blew off our meeting at Starbucks," she said, leaning back in her chair as if she was enjoying this already.

"Well, to be fair, I didn't exactly skip out on our Affair," which was the nickname we had given our small "meetings" at the nearby, and only, Starbucks in Mystic Falls so no one would figure out their obsession, "I just sort of spent it with someone else," Elena mumbled, her eyes looking everywhere but Caroline.

Caroline feigned a hurt expression, a hand over her sternum. "You spent our Affair with a stranger guy rather than spend it with me?" she sounded offended but Elena knew that both Jenna and Caroline liked the idea of Elena dating again.

"Look, it's been a while since I talked to someone so casually that had a high amount of testosterone in their body that wasn't my cousin, brother, or brother-like-friend," Elena explained hastily, slowly returning to her seat. "His name's Damon," she said and her lips lifted at the simple sound of his name.

Caroline was practically drooling over this man already and all she had seen was his leather jacket, which meant she probably noticed it was Armani. That's how Caroline was. She wanted a man who's fashion matched hers which meant he had to be head-to-toe in designer clothing. "What does he look like?" she prodded while Jenna just sat their, her cheek resting in her palm as she gazed at Elena, excited but she knew better than to interrogate on Elena Gilbert who easily got irritated.

Elena clenched her clammy fists before shrugging. "He has really bright blue eyes and dark hair," she mumbled and Caroline drooled some more and it was becoming ridiculous so Elena stood up, prepared to leave until the doorbell rang and her heart skipped a beat. Slowly, she made her way towards the door, opening it with a relieved smile.

Matt Donovan and Tyler Lockwood sat outside her door, grinning at her. All of them, including Caroline, have known each other since birth and Tyler was actually Elena's cousin while Matt was just sort of her adoptive brother in a way.

Tyler came sauntering in without a invitation, pecking Elena politely on the cheek. "Hey cous'," he greeted before the dark haired man made his way into the dining room to most likely get himself a cup of coffee and sit down by Caroline.

Elena shook her head, grinning amicably up at Matt before nodding with her head. "Come on in, Matt," she consented and he immediately came in, giving her a peck on the cheek in turn before making his way to the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee. She rolled her eyes and closed the door thinking, _Well at least he waited until I invited him in._ Matt always did honor that whole "southern hospitality" thing. But she didn't mind when those boys came in and stole her coffee and food, and to be honest, if they ever stopped, she'd go nuts.

"So, what's new, Watson?" Tyler asked, using the nickname that was strictly for Jeremy and it earned him a glare from everyone around him, even Caroline. Tyler sunk back, his brown eyes adverted down. "Sorry, 'Lena," he mumbled and she ruffled his hair as if he were five.

"It's fine," she shrugged off easily before going to sit on the back of the sofa, holding the leather jacket on her lap as she stroked the soft leather affectionately. "Nothing really," she replied to Tyler.

"Oh, hey, it's true," Matt leaned across the table to swat Tyler's shoulder and motion for the Lockwood to turn around. "She really did meet up with a guy," the blonde haired man smirked softly and Tyler finally turned, grinning cheekily over at Elena.

"Hey! Good job, Gilbert! You're officially getting more action than Mattie," he snickered over as Matt punched him in the shoulder.

"Relax, she didn't sleep with him," Jenna interjected, much to Elena's relief. The brunette continued to sit on the couch, holding the soft leather jacket in her lap, blushing. She shouldn't of looked so surprise since news spread like wild fire in this small, quiet town.

"His name's Damon," Caroline said as if she was boasting and suddenly, a strange look came over Matt's face.

"As in Salvatore?" he inquired and Tyler and Caroline turned to look at Elena who was making her way back over to the table.

"Yes," Elena said cautiously. "How'd you know?"

"Kol's Elijah's brother," he explained shortly and Elena only seemed to be more confused and Matt seemed to notice because he then proceeded explained more. "Kol Mikaelson is the younger brother of Elijah Mikaelson who lives with Damon Salvatore, right?" he said slowly, as if trying to explain two plus two to a seven year old. Kol Mikaelson had been a friend of Matt, Tyler, and Jeremy's since they were all in seventh grade but Jeremy went on to be in the air force while Tyler, Matt, and Kol became policemen. That's probably why they could identify anyone in this town by their first, middle, and last name. Though, most people who lived in Mystic Falls could.

Elena nodded and didn't mention how Elijah didn't just _live _with Damon, he took care of the ex-marine. "How much do you know of him?" she asked slowly, not wanting to give away the fact that she desperately wanted to know more about the raven haired marine.

Before Matt or anyone else could question or respond to her question, a certain dark skinned beauty came sauntering in, grinning brightly at Elena. It was strange how when Bonnie Bennett entered a room, all tension left. "Good morning," she greeted cheerily, skipping over to hop onto the counter top of the island. "What are we doin' today?" she asked and Caroline's eyes brightened.

"Oh no."

"Damn it, Bon."

Matt and Tyler's breath hitched into their throats, genuinely scared as Caroline immediately began to ramble.

"Well, we are in the midst of planning Jeremy's coming home party since he's returning in three weeks on the Fourth of July until Elena started talking about this guy that she picked up three days ago and that's when the guys showed up and-"

"Wait! Elena Gilbert hooked up with a guy?" Bonnie exclaimed, thrilled.

Elena rolled her eyes. _It's as if I never leave the house, _she thought grudgingly.

"Yes! His name is Damon Salvatore and he has really bright blue eyes and dark hair," she continued to ramble, but Elena just tuned her out as she honestly went a straight ten minutes while blabbering her assumptions about who Damon was, all the way down to his Zodiac symbol.

Matt and Tyler let out a loud groan at the same time, effectively shutting up Caroline. "Okay, I'm sorry Car, but you need a life," Tyler muttered, exasperated as he stood with Matt and they went to place their empty mugs in the sink.

Caroline rolled her eyes at them. "This is a monumental stage for the youngest Gilbert in our Wolf Pack," she explained in a professional tone. "It's the first one since _him_," the blonde shuddered, shaking her head.

They weren't allowed to even mention _his _name but even by saying the pronoun it reminded everyone of who this "_he_" was and it made Elena trembled slightly at the memories that flashed through her mind like a projector.

Everyone seemed to fall silent and a loud exhale filled the room when the door rang once again. "That's probably Vicki or Kol," Tyler murmured as he stood, approaching the door. Elena sauntered over to the fridge to grab a bottle of water, her throat feeling uncomfortably dry.

"_Holy shit!_"

The sound of Caroline's squeal made Elena jump out of her skin, dropping the bottle out of her hands. "What?" she quickly made her way out of the kitchen, leaving the dropped bottle of water on the floor. Tyler, Matt, Caroline, and Bonnie were crowding the door while Elena and Jenna stood by the table, confused. The brunette made her way over and when she tapped Matt's shoulder, he obediently moved out of the way, allowing a pair of bright cerulean eyes to meet hers.

"Elena," Damon drawled, grinning at her before his eyes shifted to the group around him, showing plainly how uncomfortable it was to have their eyes all on them, especially since Caroline's was about two or three feet lower than they should be. Elena then swatted at Tyler's arm.

"Clear out, give the man some space, will you?" Elena crossed her arms and Tyler smirked, leaning against the door while Bonnie and Caroline made a quick retreat with Matt back towards Jenna.

"So you're Salvatore," Tyler spoke and Damon's bright eyes shifted onto the broad man. Tyler was younger than Damon, but he could be intimidating; almost like a bear. He had dark brown hair with black eyes and a practically GAP model worthy baby face that could hold the most angriest sneer you've ever seen. But Damon was a marine who went through various amounts of training and was taller that Tyler by more than a few inches.

"You have me at a disadvantage mister..." Damon held out a hand and Tyler, always one to rise to a challenge, reach forward and shook it firmly an Elena could tell it might of stung a bit because Damon winced briefly but she almost had to restrain a giggle when Damon squeezed Tyler's hand in turn and Tyler's eyes squinted with slight pain before Damon release his grip and Tyler walked back to the table without another word, leaving the two alone.

Elena smiled up at him and Damon smirked. "I took your request for more crazy into consideration," he stated and he swung out a bouquet of white flowers, who's name was unknown to her, that had white speckles on the steam and leaves with a pinkish tint surrounding each waxy petal. "And I've come for my jacket," he said and he looked rather shy saying it, as if he felt bad for having come back for something that rightfully belonged to him. She rolled her eyes and tugged gently on his wrist.

"Come on," she invited, letting go of his wrist as he followed her into the house and she heard him close the door behind them. She made her way into the kitchen, past the dining table where everyone was seated at. Elena held the flowers in one hand while opening a cabinet with the other which exposed rows of glass cups and mugs while on the very top, out of her reach, where the crystal vases.

She turned to Damon. "Can you reach?" she asked, completely oblivious to the looks her friends, and aunt, were giving her. Damon nodded.

"Sure," he said warmly and sauntered over, reaching up and gripping a wide, slim vase, handing it to Elena who proceeded to fill it with water from the sink before placing the flowers into the vase.

"Caroline, could you get Damon his jacket," Elena motioned to the article laying on the back of the couch and Caroline eagerly hopped up to grab it.

"I don't know if I'm so willing to hand it over," she sighed and Elena internally rolled her eyes, knowing this was Caroline's way of flirting. "I think I look good in leather," she said, wrapping the jacket around her shoulders, smiling coyly at Damon. "Don't you think?"

Elena watched as Damon shrugged, leaning against the island. "Well-Caroline, is it-I think you're more of a girl to be in reds and whites; not dusty black and not leather either. More like...satin or silk," he said smoothly, and Elena had to admit, it was the absolute perfect response for a girl like Caroline who's eyes were wide as if she were about to jump him in the kitchen.

"But," Damon interjected, his eyes training over to Jenna and Elena just knew that Damon could tell who her aunt was, granted Elena told him about her. "I think Jenna here could look good in anything," he smirked, winking at her and Elena didn't know why everyone was so amused but then Elena realized Jenna was still wearing pajamas that had reindeer and snowflakes on them; a gift from last year's Christmas.

Jenna blushed a dark crimson, tucking a strawberry piece of hair behind her ear. "You know me?" she said as if she was a high schooler again with a crush on the captain of the football team.

"Elena told me some things about you and she just so happened to point out this sucker right her," Damon walked over, tapping against Jenna's exposed forearm, motioning to a pink scar that Jenna had received from accidentally cutting herself with a butter knife when she had gotten baked in college. It caused Jenna to blush more, and now Damon looked more than just amused but _smug. _Someone was obviously in a better mood.

Caroline then removed his jacket and walked over, handing it to him, grinning up at him. Suddenly, Damon returned to his uncomfortable state, shuffling back slowly, though Caroline didn't seem to notice as she trapped him in her gaze. Politely, he took the jacket from her before slipping it onto his shoulders before clearing his throat.

"Now," he spun to look at Elena. "I think I look good in leather, don't you think?" he winked and a small laugh escaped Elena's lips.

"I think it looks better on me then it does on you," she replied boldly, her chin tilted defiantly and he smirked at her before his face was taken over by a contemplative expression before he glanced back up at her.

"I agree."

_Authors Note:_

_Again; a lot of just rambling so I can introduce the characters. "Him" will be identified in later chapters and I hope to start a climax with him but next chapter I will try to begin to build up some action-whatever I plan on that being. Who knows. It'll come to me in a dream. _

**_Please review 3_**


	4. Timshel

**Damon POV:**

Damon gripped the leather wheel of his 1967 Camaro a bit too tightly, his knuckles white and he was shaking ever so slightly. It was dead silent the entire way there and he would briefly check to see if he was still breathing before he continued towards his destination. His mind was completely void of an emotion or thought, leaving him to be consumed by only one emotion as his car rolled up to the gate of the military base; apprehension.

Flashing his military identification card, granting him permission on base, he rolled down the road towards the large building he knew as the hospital which laid directly beside the rehabilitation center. His car pulled into the parking lot in front of the beige painted building and he reached behind him, pulling out a wrapped box before he moved to step out of the car, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. Taking a deep breath, he locked his car before approaching the automatic door as it slid open for him.

Immediately, he was opened to a small lobby with two couches propped up against the wall, opposite of the desk in which a young women sat behind, looking intently at the computer screen. Upon hearing the doors open, she looked up and gave Damon a smile. "Good morning, Sergeant," she greeted warmly. Damon's lips quirked up in a small resemblance of a smile, approaching the counter.

She opened a leather binder, flipping through pages before scanning down a list of names and placing her finger on a specific one. "Ah, right on time," she said before giving him a small nod. "Go ahead Damon," she granted. Giving her a quiet thanks, he made his way through the archway and into a larger room. Here, the room was painted in a baby blue and had wooden floors. Closer to the archway was another two leather couches that were bigger in size and a long wooden coffee table sat in between them, piles with magazines and books of sorts. Men were crowded on each couch, but instead of reading, their attentions were trained on the plasma screen television mounted on the wall beside them.

A dark skinned man turned upon hearing footsteps and smiled amicably at Damon-a rather beautiful smile with shimmering, straight white teeth that the raven haired man remembered well.

"Hey, guys, it's Salvatore," he announced and the guys on the couch suddenly seemed to acknowledge Damon's presence and they all grinned. "What's up, Damon?" the dark skinned man asked, moving to sit up.

"Hey John," Damon greeted, smirking slightly. John shuffled around the couch before his appearance became exposed to Damon. He had a prosthetic leg replacing his left one which he'd lost in a separate explosion. Damon and John had been in separate regiments but they knew each other from high school and were reacquainted when Alaric was placed in the rehabilitation center.

The two men shared a masculine hug, clapping each other's backs. "How've you been?" Damon asked as they pulled away.

John continued to grin blindingly at Damon. "Imma be headin' home soon. In a few days, they told me. Hope you won't miss me too much, huh Salvatore?" he smirked, cuffing Damon's shoulder before cupping the side of his neck in kind. Damon let out a soft laugh.

"You'll be missed but clearly your overwhelming ego will not be," he quipped and the men behind them let out soft chuckles. John rolled his black eyes, shaking his head.

"You're one to talk Sergeant," he shot back before clasping his shoulder, squeezing it gently. "Maybe you'll come visit me before I leave? Bring me a bottle o' that sweet Bourbon, mm?" he grinned cheekily, raising a thick brow.

Damon grinned, clapping his shoulder in return. "Sure thing, man," he said before the two departed and John shuffled his way back to sit on the couch while Damon made his way through the assortment of tables where men with much worse conditions sat, playing checkers or chess with the other injured soldiers. There was even a man on the very far end drawing a picture but drawing it much to slow for Damon to realize what it was becoming.

He came closer and closer to the windows, and he could see outside where the basketball court was. Men with prosthetic legs or men in wheelchairs were playing as if they'd never been injured, laughing and shoving each other playfully.

And a man in a wheelchair sat by that same window, his hazel eyes gazing out as he watched the scene with the most dead and hollow expression Damon Salvatore has ever seen. Slowly pulling up a chair, Damon sat next to the hazel-eyed man.

"Hi Ric," he murmured, his voice already cracking. Fidgeting with the wrapped box in his hands. "I - um - brought you this," he stammered, placing the box on the window seal in front of them. "It's Bourbon," he mumbled. "Same as always."

Damon didn't ever know what to say when he was around Alaric and that hurt worse than anything because they use to talk all the time and it was so easy. And those memories still burned fresh in Damon's mind. He could still remember the seventeen year old Ric lying down in the field one night.

_It was late. Junior year was coming to an end and with it, so was the adolescence of the two young men walking into the high school stadium, sauntering onto the field. _

_Alaric let out a small 'hmph' as he fell onto his back in the soft grass. Damon, carrying the half drained bottle of Bourbon with him, came to lay beside him as they both stared up at the sky._

_"What are we gonna do when we graduate, D?" Alaric mumbled as he looked over at Damon. The dark haired seventeen year old shrugged, taking another swig of his bourbon._

_"Hopefully go off to college," he muttered. "Meet a girl or two. Get drunk. Go to Vegas. Have the time of our lives and then we can die," he said, yawning. Alaric made a quiet scoff beside him, yanking the bourbon out of his hands._

_"I don't want that, Damon. I want to do something useful with my life. I don't want to party-or go to Vegas," he confessed, taking a gulp out of the crystal tumbler. "I do want to go to college, though. Get a degree in something useful like law or a doctorate. I want to get married, have a few kids, grow old, become someone's grandfather. I want to be able to tell my kids stories about how their uncle and I used to break into the football stadium and stargaze," he smirked softly, turning over to Damon's whose dull eyes were clouded. _

_Damon rolled his blue hues, shaking his head as he looked up at the clear night sky. He'd always liked Mystic Falls. It was a small town with barely any buildings which meant you could see the stars as if you were standing next to them._

_"Well, you can't," Damon said dryly. "Because you don't have a brother; therefore, no uncle," he muttered. Alaric rolled his eyes and shoved Damon's shoulder._

_"Shut up, Damon," Alaric grumbled. They sat in silence after that, passing the bottle between each other, taking small sips of it before it was empty. Damon sat the tumbler between them afterwards and moved his hands behind his head. "Damon," he heard Alaric say beside him._

_Damon closed his eyes, yawning once more. "Hm?" he mumbled._

_"You're the best brother I've ever had," he murmured and when Damon looked over, Alaric was asleep._

The man sitting there in a wheelchair _wasn't _his brother. That wasn't the sandy haired Alaric who wanted a doctorate and kids. This was the Alaric with a buzz cut and no legs. Damon's brother was gone and this was just his husk-like a mannequin trying to fulfill the role of a real man.

Reaching over hesitantly, Damon grasped Alaric's hand and he saw his friend's eyes flicker so briefly, Damon almost missed it. It told him that Ric had acknowledged him and that's all Damon asked for during these visits.

"Elijah's okay," he mumbled, looking down at the dry, cracked skin of the man's hands. "Tatia is okay and I hear the baby is doing great," he managed to make his voice uplifting, although this was all so fucked up.

"I met a girl," Damon murmured quietly and looked up to see Alaric's eyes, though just barely, were trained over to him, showing Damon he was listening. Damon smiled. "Her name's Elena and she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Damon knew that if Alaric wouldn't have become a soldier at all; if Alaric had never gotten his legs blown off, he would of said something along the lines of "_You said that last time, D, and look how it ended up._"

_Damon was fidgeting where he sat in a booth in the Grill, tossing his napkin on his empty plate, gulping down the rest of his soda while he watched Alaric finish his burger and Elijah try to finish off the half that was left but it was clear he was full._

_"So, what's up Dame?" Elijah piped, looking across the table from where he sat next to Alaric to gaze at Damon. Taking a deep breath, Damon grinned._

_"I met a girl," he said and he heard Alaric choke on a French fry._

_"What?" he spat, still trying to get around the choked fry. _

_"What do you mean you met a girl? You meet tons of them," Elijah furrowed his brows, oblivious to what Damon _actually _meant. _

_"I met the girl I want the spend the rest of my life with, Eli. She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," Damon replied, looking absolutely high. Alaric narrowed his eyes._

_"And who is this oh-so-special _girl_?" Ric demanded, raising a sandy brow._

_"Her...Her name's Katherine," he said quietly and Elijah began to choke on his coke._

_"What?" he stammered. "The wicked Bitch of the West?" he snapped and Damon growled._

_"You watch your mouth Mikaelson or the next thing to come out of it will be your teeth," he snarled and Alaric kicked him in the shins so hard Damon yelped._

_"You watch it when you're talkin' to Elijah like that, Salvatore, or I'll be rippin' you a new asshole," Alaric said protectively while Elijah gaze shifted down into his lap. Damon sighed, feeling guilty for snapping at Elijah._

_"Sorry, Eli, I didn't mean it but-but...Katherine isn't a bitch! Not like the whole high school perceives her to be. She's got a mouth on her but she's a nice girl if you get to know her. She just has a fire in her...like the fire I have in me," Damon reasoned, smiling._

_"You don't got no fire in ya, Damon," Alaric scoffed. "That's just your hormones," he smirked and Damon rolled his eyes but couldn't help smirk himself._

_"Well it might be but I'm askin' both you, as my brothers," his eyes drifted to lock with Alaric's, "to allow me to trust Katherine isn't a bitch. If this is a dead end, allow me to let her break my heart but I want to try this, guys. If it ends up in the gutter-so be it, but I might be in love with her and that's a choice I'm willing to make."_

_Alaric and Elijah groaned in unison, frustrated at their friend's reasons. "Fine," Elijah spoke first. "It's your choice after all," he said softly and Damon grinned over at him before turning back to Alaric who just scowled at him._

_"You're going to get hurt...and you're going to be so whipped that it's going to destroy you," he warned and Damon frowned._

_"Come on, Ric, I won't lose my brother over a girl. Don't make me give her up," he pleaded and Ric sighed._

_"Fine. But when she breaks your heart, don't you come cryin' to me," he said, causing Damon to grin once more. "Now finish eating, Eli, you have to study."_

Was it hard to believe that was less than a decade ago? So much has happened in the last year that the thought made Damon dizzy.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. 'That's what you said last time Damon'," Damon mumbled, speaking for Ric since he wouldn't open his mouth anytime soon. "But I swear she's different. She's kind, funny...Her name's Elena. She owns this coffee shop in the Square and she named it after her mother. Her father was a Marine...I mean, damn, she listened to me ramble about Eli and Katherine and you," he said before smirking, turning to look out the window. "Yeah, I sold out your cripple story. But I thought it would get me laid," he drawled and turned to Ric and could of swore he was smirking the faintest bit.

"You'd like her," the raven haired man sighed. "She was more your type than she was mine. She's nice, for one," he mumbled dryly. "She has a quick wit and she stood up for a lost cause," he smirked and let out a small huff. "You'll meet her one day," he assured, squeezing Alaric's hand. "The day you actually unwrap one of my gifts and take a sip," Damon decided, holding up one finger to his lips. "One sip and I'll bring her. If she'll come, that is," he added lightly. "You think she'll accept it as a date?" he asked softly and Damon knew exactly what he'd say. "_Damon Alexander Salvatore-if you dare bring that girl to see a lost cause with no legs and have the audacity to call it a date, I will kill you._" It was, of course, Alaric who taught Damon how to do the whole dating thing.

_"Alright. Welcome to Dating 101 with your hot and very experienced teacher, Alaric Saltzman," he smirked and Damon had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes as Ric moved him from where he sat on the bed towards the mirror. "Now, first off, these," Ric motioned to the jeans Damon wore. They were dusty, covered in dirt from working on the houses after school. "This girl may be Katherine Pierce but I'm letting no brother of mine walk out looking like he rolled around in dirt all day," he shook his head before disappearing into his closet._

_Damon looked down at his jeans, patting them down with his hands and watching as dirt rose in clouds off the denim. He coughed, shaking his head as the particles filled his nostrils. Alaric reappeared, carrying an entirely new outfit. _

_"Chicks love blazers," he said, holding up a dark grey blazer and smirking up at Damon. "Here, put these on," he said, tossing Damon a pair of dark blue jeans. Quickly, Damon stripped out of the faded pair and slipped on the dark. _

_He slipped off his dark grey shirt and replaced it with a crisp, pressed white long-sleeved button down. "Now, let's see what we can work with..." Alaric continued as he brought up two different ties and a bow tie. Taking the black tie, he placed it around the collar before forcing Damon to put on the blazer, the tie undone. The sandy haired teen quirked his lips and shook his head. "No tie," he mumbled and took the bow tie, placing it around Damon's neck. Again, he stepped back to evaluate the outfit._

_"Well?" Damon said, raising a brow. Alaric shook his head. _

_"Lose the tie. You look like a freak from Footloose," he muttered and Damon threw the untied bow aside and Alaric grinned._

_"Perfect. Now, run your hand through your hair the way you do," he commanded, leaning against the wall. Damon rolled his eyes and ran his slender finger through his hair so tendrils fell over his forehead in its disheveled fashion._

_Alaric feigned a swooning motion. "I think I'm in love with you," he winked and Damon laughed. "Now, I don't need to tell you how to act around women, just be sure to use manners," Ric said pointedly as if he was a mother. "But I will give you my one piece of advice: _Carpe diem, _Damon. Seize the day."_

* * *

Damon headed home with a clouded head, blinking softly as he struggled to focus on the road. Things really had taken a turn for the worst during the past decade.

Elijah, who used to be so shy and kind and gentle with even a fly and whose eyes always reminded Damon of a lost puppy dog's, was now wasting his life away to try and take care of Damon-a man who did not wish to be taken care of. Who had everything Damon wish he had: a wife, a kid...a family. He needed to go back to that Damon loved that guy like a baby brother but he needed to stop trying to prove everything to Damon. It was the same as it's been since high school with Elijah trying to prove himself to both Damon and Ric but Damon didn't need it anymore. Elijah needed to realize that Damon would never blame Elijah for how he's doomed to turn out in the end and that Elijah needed to go back to his life. Damon would always need him to talk to or have a drink but he didn't need Elijah to look after him. Not anymore.

Alaric, who was always so headstrong and gallant and loyal, now sat and stared at men in wheelchairs or men with prosthetic legs play and jump like he wished he could, like he still could, and he was no longer Ric. Or maybe it was. He'd never be the same, though. He's so convinced he's broken that he stopped talking. But whether it's Alaric or the Devil himself, Damon would never stop going to see Ric; never stop thanking him for rescuing him. Because that's what brothers did for each other-they looked after each other and Damon would be there until their dying day.

And then there was himself; the worst of all three. He, who used to enjoy the company of women and men and would spend hours playing pool or drinking or sleeping around or joking around with the guys, now couldn't stand to be in a place too crowded or too loud or within three feet of a female. The world ruined all of them. The bomb ruined Ric; thus ruining Damon who ruined Elijah. It was like a domino effect, and one day, they were all going to fall. This was just the storm before the storm; the battle before the war. And Damon feared it. Damon, a man who had always felt fearless, as if he could take the world by hand, feared the future as much as he feared his past.

_"...I want to get married, have a few kids, grow old, become someone's grandfather. I want to be able to tell my kids stories about how their uncle and I used to break into the football stadium and stargaze..."_

Damon's brows furrowed as Alaric's words seemed to rattle around in his head. Why couldn't he have that too? The raven haired man blinked curiously as he sped down the road. Being serious for a moment, Damon tried to think of a reason why he couldn't have that.

_Hell! I fucking gave my best friend and my sanity for this forsaken country. I deserve something_, he thought to himself, gripping the wheel more firmly. He was insane, and he was just going to grow more mad inevitably, but that didn't mean he shouldn't try to live the rest of his life to the fullest...to try to emotionally prolong this torture he was bound to experience himself go through.

_"...Carpe Diem..."_

He needed to exist; to live in this world while he still could. Perhaps that's the reason he ended up at Elena's driveway, swallowing thickly as he stepped out of the car. He was about to march up to the door, to bang it down until he thought about how many visitors she had the other day and instead, he grabbed a pine cone from the trees aligning her porch, and threw it against her window. He waited before he picked another one up and chucked it, hearing it clink against the glass. Again, he waited before he saw someone lifting the window and a doe eyed brunette stuck her head out, furrowing her brows at him.

"Damon?" Elena called out. "Is that you?" she sounded amused and Damon would be too if someone was standing on his lawn in the middle of the day, clutching a pine cone so hard in his hand it was collapsing in his palm. "Hold on! I'll come down," she said as she slid her head back in and Damon saw her figure retreating back into the room before it was silent.

Oh God what was he doing here...? _Breathe Salvatore, just breathe. You know what you're hear for,_ he thought to himself, dropping the crumbled pine cone in his hand and brushing his hand off on his jeans before his gaze glanced up towards the door as Elena opened it. She looked cautious as she took a step out and onto the porch.

Determined, Damon slowly made his way to stand in front of her.

"I don't know what I'm doing here," he breathed, his eyes wary as they searched her expression. "Or if I should have come here...I just know you're the first person who hasn't treated me like I'm an incompetent child and has yet to play a pity card with me," he said dryly. "I know that I'm insane and that you must be too because there is no way you're in your right mind to even talk to a guy like me," he said, laughing nervously and she smiled at him. "I know you have the most gorgeous eyes and the most beautiful smile I've ever seen and I can't get them out of my head," his eyes bored into hers as he paused, his tongue running over his lower lip.

_"Seize the day, Damon."_

"Elena Gilbert, would you do me the honor of going out with me Saturday night?" he got out, and he was sure half of the sentence was incoherent, but for some odd reason, she was smiling like she won the lottery. He furrowed his brows, waiting anxiously for her answer. When her eyes took an amused glint, he burrowed his brows. "You're killing me here," he muttered and she giggled.

"I'd be honored to Damon," she replied finally and his shoulders sagged with relief, his eyes momentarily closing. Why did he suddenly feel like a horny virgin high schooler again? Feeling a soft pair of lips press against his cheek, his eyes snapped open and he was sure he was blushing. _Damn it..._

Elena's eyes were soft as they met Damon's and she stepped aside. "Saturday's a long way from now," she murmured gently.

"It's only four days," he murmured, canting his head. She giggled once more and it made him smirk lazily.

"Time drags for us lost causes," she grinned, her lips curving up in amusement. "I was just watching the Notebook," she murmured innocently, and Damon groaned.

"I never should of told you that," he muttered, shaking his head.

"Well you did, so suck it up Salvatore," she said firmly as she opened the door. "Come watch it with me," she offered, stepping aside in an open invitation. He sighed and met her eyes and they were such a deep shade of brown he thought they'd bring him to his knees. He shook his head once more, rolling his eyes before he slowly made his way past the threshold.

_Author's Note:_

_I apologize for how long this took. I had severe writer's block and couldn't write angst for a while. But, I hope it's satisfying. I do recommend listening to **Timeshel - Mumford & Sons **while you read. Please review and know I love you all!_


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